


Too Close to the Sun

by like_a_raven, mountain_born



Series: The Marvelous Tale of an Agent, an Archer, and an Assassin [56]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Doctor Who/Avengers Crossover Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 00:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_a_raven/pseuds/like_a_raven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_born/pseuds/mountain_born
Summary: Some days, it's like Steve feels every one of those hours in the ice.  And some days, you just have to spice up your life.





	Too Close to the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks as ever to the lovely mountain_born, who occasionally lets me run wild in her amazing sandbox. She's a rock star.
> 
> This one follows more or less directly Steve Rogers' arc in "We Have Normality."
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

March 2013  
Toronto, Ontario, Canada

London always left Steve feeling a little spun. It was jarring, how much had changed from what seemed to him to be _not that long ago_, even if rationally he knew it had been seven decades. Some part of him was surprised when London wasn’t still the London of 1944.

And meeting Peggy’s daughter had been . . . 

He had known that Peggy had kids. He’d met one of her sons, seen the pictures, but it was different, somehow, meeting Kate Stewart out in the world, doing her job. It made Kate and her brothers more real. They weren’t just staging around the old woman their mother had become, seemingly overnight from Steve’s perspective. Peggy had had a life and an impact on the world, and he’d been a bedtime story about the things she’d done a long time ago.

At least he called Meg this time before he boarded a plane for Toronto. 

Steve stood looking up at the front of Birch Grove. Even having asked to come, he still felt like he was imposing. It would be different if she were almost anyone else from those days. But he and Meg had never really been friends. Neither of them, he knew, would have chosen the other to be the last one left.

“Captain?” said a voice behind him, and the accent was so purely London that it took him a moment to remember that he wasn’t still there.

“Yes?” he said, turning to see a woman in a white coat over a neat grey suit, holding a small black case. He was sure he’d seen her before, but he couldn’t quite --

“Martha Jones,” she said. “We met --”

“Of course. You’re Meg’s doctor,” Steve said.

“One of them.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Steve said. “Though I suspect this means I am once again interrupting your appointment with Meg.”

“Actually, I might be interrupting yours. I got a call that she wasn’t feeling well. And given who she is, we tend to start at _overabundance of caution_ and work our way up as needed.”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, holding the door for her as they went into Birch Grove.

Meg greeted them when they reached her apartment, but didn’t seem to share the opinion that _overly cautious_ was the best starting place.

“I can’t sneeze without you showing up to make sure I’m not dying,” she said, but she let them follow her into her living room.

“Well, if all’s well, ma’am, this won’t take but a moment,” Dr. Jones said.

“I don’t even know why you . . .” Meg trailed off, and blinked at them.

“Meg?” Steve asked.

“It’s nothing,” Meg said firmly. 

“Ma’am, maybe you should sit -- Catch her!”

Meg’s knees just seemed to buckle. Steve, jumping over the couch, got there just in time to catch her before her head hit the coffee table. 

“Put her on the sofa,” Dr. Jones ordered. “And then run straight down to the front desk. There’s a man there -- name badge will say _Arnold_. Tell him ‘Code Icarus, Minister.’ He’ll know what to do.”

“Do you need me to --”

“Go. Run. _Now_.”

Steve ran.

*****

“I just got a little dizzy,” Meg complained, twenty minutes later, as she was wheeled through the lobby to the ambulance in the drive.

“You know the rules, ma’am,” Dr. Jones said. “They’re your rules.”

“Very well, let’s get this over with. Wait.”

The paramedics actually stopped.

“Steve,” Meg said, and Steve got up from the lobby couch and came over to her. “Come with us. We can chat while they keep me for observation.”

Steve frowned. “Meg, you need to --”

“Besides, someone needs to drive Dr. Jones’s car back to the facility, since I’m sure she’s planning to ride with me in the ambulance.”

“Meg, don’t worry about me.”

Meg turned to Dr. Jones. “Give him your keys.”

“It’s easier to just do what she wants,” Dr. Jones said, handing her keys to Steve. “Red convertible over there under the tree. I’ll let them know to expect you.”

“Expect me where?” Steve asked, following them out into the drive.

“SHIELD Medical,” Dr. Jones said. “There’s a navigation system in the car. We’ve got to go.”

***

“Not the most comfortable place to kip down,” Dr. Jones said, several hours later, sitting down in the chair next to his in the waiting room.

“I’ve slept in worse,” Steve said. “Or not slept, on occasion.” But after the uncomfortable chair and the more uncomfortable seat on the plane, he felt it as he straightened up. “How’s Meg?”

“Tough as nails, or so she insists,” Dr. Jones said. “I think she’ll be all right. It’s a good thing you caught her, though. Head injuries are never good, but at her age . . .”

“I’m glad I was there. What happened to her?”

“Just got dehydrated. Blood pressure probably dropped when she got up to greet us. We’re running some tests, though, keeping an eye on things overnight. I know you came to see her, and she wouldn’t agree with me about this,” Dr. Jones said, “but I think it’s probably for the best if she doesn’t have visitors before tomorrow. She needs to rest. Unless it’s world-in-peril stuff, in which case--”

Steve cut her off, shaking his head. “As far as I know, the world is not currently in active peril. And these days, I tend to know.”

“Then if you don’t mind waiting till tomorrow, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Steve paused, then continued. “I don’t suppose you can recommend a hotel or . . .”

“Ahead of you, or Director Downing is. We’re arranging guest quarters for you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And in the meantime, I’m going to get some supper. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.”

“I would appreciate that, too. Lunch was a long time ago, and somewhere over the Atlantic.” And there hadn’t been much of it.

“Facility cafeteria okay?” Dr. Jones asked. “It’ll be faster, and probably better than airplane food at least.”

“Anything would be okay at this point.”

“Oh, so you’ve eaten in the facility cafeteria before?” Dr. Jones asked, and then laughed. “It’s actually not half bad. SHIELD has always embraced the idea than if an army marches on its stomach, spies probably do, too.”

“Not a bad approach.” Steve held the door at the end of the corridor for her automatically. “After you, Dr. Jones.”

“Thank you. And please, just _Martha_ is fine.”

“Of course. Sorry, I’m still working on the modern approach to informality.”

“No apologies necessary, Captain. I’m very proud of my title. I just don’t tend to make people use it over the dinner table.”

“_Steve_,” he said. “Seems only fair, if we’re leaving your title out, we should leave mine out, too.”

Martha nodded. “Steve.”

There was a slight lull, and then Steve continued, “If you don’t mind my saying, you do seem kind of young for this job.”

“Being a doctor?”

“Being Meg’s doctor,” Steve clarified.

“You don’t think I can handle her?” Martha asked, eyebrows going up slightly.

“Honestly, I’m not sure anyone can handle her, but that’s not what I meant,” Steve said. “It’s just, Meg told me once that she’s a hard person to get any kind of face-to-face time with, and I gather that’s a pretty valuable commodity. I’m surprised someone with more seniority didn’t step in and insist on being the one to see her.”

“Oh, I’m sure one or two of them tried,” Martha said easily. “But the Director picks her own doctors, and she picked me. Just through that door there.”

The cafeteria had that institutional food hall feel, though there were rather more people in scrubs and rather fewer people in tactical gear than Steve was used to in those sorts of places these days. There was also a Tim Hortons in the corner, but then, this was Canada.

Martha handed him what appeared to be a credit card. “Visitor meal pass,” she said. “Just swipe it at the register. I’ll meet you at the table over by the tree in the corner.”

“Thank you.”

Steve had gotten over caring about people’s reactions to the portions he could put away at a single sitting. But he did notice Martha’s slightly widened eyes as he set his tray down several minutes later. “At Thanksgiving, I had my own turkey,” he offered.

“If you were anyone else, that would worry me, in a professional capacity, ” she said.

“It was especially fun during rationing.” A moment, and then he returned to their conversation from the walk to the cafeteria. “Has Meg ever told you why she picked you?”

“She generally only tells you things she thinks you need to know, and I guess she’s never thought she needed to tell me,” Martha said. “It’s odd to hear someone call her _Meg_. Though it’s also odd to hear her call you _Steve_.”

“A lot of people call me _Steve_,” he said.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t use nicknames for anyone I’ve ever met. Even Director Fury is _Nicholas_. But she doesn’t call you _Steven_.”

“Well, maybe she has different rules for people she met before her twenty-fifth birthday,” Steve said. “She called plenty of people by nicknames in 1944.”

He never heard her call Bucky _James_, for one. He couldn’t imagine her calling Dum Dum _Timothy_. Though to be fair, he couldn’t imagine anyone calling Dum Dum _Timothy_, including Dum Dum’s mother.

“What was Director Downing like, back then?” Martha asked.

“I actually didn’t know her that well,” Steve admitted. “She was closer to my friend Bucky -- Sgt. Barnes, one of the Howling Commandos.”

Martha nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”

“They used to go out whenever we were in London. Dancing mostly. He was always trying to get me to come along, meet a girl, have some fun. I never took him up on it. I was waiting for the war to be over.”

Waiting for Peggy. 

“Anyway, I wasn’t much of a dancer. Bucky was.” Steve stared at his tray for a second, then looked up. “Aside from that, I saw Meg at HQ all the time, but she worked with Howard and she tended to stay in the background, taking notes in meetings and things like that. It took me longer than it should have to figure out that she was watching everything all the time. That she was the reason Howard always seemed to know what was going on with everyone. People were careful around him. He was Howard Stark, after all. They were less careful around her. Half the men I knew thought she was just there because she and Howard were . . .” he trailed off, looking for a delicate way to put it.

“Involved?” Martha offered, and Steve nodded.

“Once I figured it out, she could be fun to watch.”

“And what were you like, back then?” Martha asked.

“Not that different than I am now,” Steve said. “A little more up to date on popular culture. There did seem to be a lot less of it, in those days.”

“But look at it this way. You can catch up on all the good stuff, and skip all the crap.”

“I’ve been trying,” Steve said. “Anything you’d recommend?”

“Well,” Martha said, setting down her sandwich and appearing to give the matter serious thought, “have you listened to the Spice Girls?”

“Who?”

“Sporty, Scary, Baby, Posh, and Ginger,” Martha said, pulling out her phone and typing something. “British 90s girl group. _Girl power_ and _Cool Britannia_. They were incredible. I saw them at Wembley Stadium in 1998 and it was life-altering.”

“The Spice Girls,” Steve repeated. “I’ll put them on the--”

Martha slid her phone over to him, a video pulled up on the screen. “‘Wannabe.’ Everything you need to know.”

“Want to be what?” Steve asked, turning his attention to the video as she hit play. Five young women, who frankly seemed improbably dressed even by modern standards, came running down a street and went tearing into a hotel.

“Is the one on the left a . . . trapeze artist?” he asked.

“Not in those shoes,” Martha said. “That’s Ginger.”

“They really, really want to . . . what?” he asked, a minute later. “I don’t understand.”

“I wish you could see your face right now,” Martha said. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen someone’s jaw drop like that before.”

“They want to zig zag . . . what?”

“‘Zig a zig ha,’” Martha said.

“And that means?”

“I’m not sure anyone really knows,” Martha said.

Steve watched the rest of the video and then slid Martha’s phone back across the table to her. “I have one question.”

“Just one?”

“That concert you went to. What exactly was your life altered from? Or to?”

Martha laughed. “It’s hard to explain, but they were vibrant and powerful and different and it was exciting. The music was pretty catchy, too. Sometimes, you just have to spice up your life, Captain Rogers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Martha’s phone beeped, and she looked down at it for a second. “Your quarters are ready. I can show you, if you like, whenever you’re ready.”

Steve gestured to his mostly empty tray. “I’m done. And I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary.”

“It’s been a pleasure.”

He followed her out of the cafeteria and down the hall toward the elevators. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask me about London. That’s home for you, right?”

“Yeah, but I’ve talked to my family, and seen the news, and I kind of figured you were probably ready to talk about something else.”

“Thank you. You’re not wrong.”

“Besides, London always comes through things. It’s what we do.”

“Second most resilient city on the planet,” Steve agreed.

“‘_Second most_’?” Martha repeated, eyebrows going up.

“I’m a guy from Brooklyn, Martha. New York is--”

“A baby of a city,” Martha said. “Talk to me when you’ve lasted two millennia.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Guess you will.” She stepped out of the elevator. “You’re just here,” she said. “Scan your left thumb print to open the door, and if you need anything, just pick up the phone in the room and dial zero. I’ll have them give you a call tomorrow when Director Downing is feeling up to visitors.”

He reached out and shook her hand. “Thank you, Martha. For everything.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll see you around, Steve.”

*****

The other man nearly collided with Steve in the doorway to Meg’s room.

“Sorry,” Steve said. He took in the white coat and suit, a tidy professional look a bit at odds with the man’s unruly grey hair . “If this is a bad time . . .”

“No, no,” he said in a thick Scottish accent. “We were just finishing up.”

“Steve,” Meg called from inside the room, “do come in.” The doctor started down the hall without so much as a backwards glance.

Steve came in and sat down in the chair next to Meg’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Old,” Meg said. “You?”

Steve thought about telling her he was fine, but then said, “Some days, it’s like I feel every one of those hours in the ice.”

“And is this one of those days?”

“Yesterday was,” Steve admitted. “Today is better.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk yesterday.”

“I think you had pretty extenuating circumstances, Meg.”

“And a very bossy doctor. Martha tells me she got you squared away for the night, though.”

“She did. It was very nice of her.” Steve looked at Meg for a long moment. “How did you pick her, anyway? As your doctor?”

“Martha Jones is clever, compassionate, talented, and willing to make me follow my own rules. As well as following some of hers.”

“You like people who push back, don’t you?” Steve said.

Meg laughed. “I appreciate them. They’re rare. And it’s dangerous, never having anyone disagree with you to your face. That’s how you become a dictator and get overthrown.”

“I can’t quite imagine the person who would dare to overthrow you, Meg.”

“I worked hard to make sure no one ever needed to.”

Steve studied her for a moment. Maybe it was the hospital setting, maybe it was the fact that she was in a robe instead of a suit, with her white hair hanging in a braid over her shoulder instead of neatly pinned up, but for the first time, it struck him how old Meg Downing was.

“The phrase Martha told me to use yesterday,” he said at last. “_Code Icarus_. That means what I think it means, doesn’t it?”

“I’m an old woman, Steve. The wings are going to melt one of these days.”

“It’s funny. I keep thinking that I don’t really know you, compared to the others from back then.”

“Well, compared to how well you knew Bucky or Howard or Peggy or the other Howling Commandos, you really didn’t,” she said, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but that was the guy who went into the ice. The guy who’s here now would appreciate it if you could avoid flying too close to the sun any time soon. He’d miss you.”

“I’ll do my best. And I do have a very good doctor.”

“Yeah, you do. She would probably want me to let you rest.”

“You might consider that, too,” Meg said. “Take a couple hours off when you get back to New York. Maybe even a whole afternoon.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“See, we do know each other,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Meg.”


End file.
